


All's fair and... well you know the rest

by sea_sighs



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, But also, Drakecentric, Ficlets, Fluff, M/M, Mostly Platonic, Platonic Love, drakecest, exploration of their relationship, more Drakecentric than anything, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2018-12-15 18:54:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_sighs/pseuds/sea_sighs
Summary: Snapshots of the lives of Nathan and Sam Drake.Aka two idiots who'll never admit that they love each other---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------loosely chronological (unless said otherwise), and updated weekly (originally) but now updated monthly.





	1. Mangoes

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I just watched Uncharted 4 and I was thinking, hoe don't do it, HOE DON'T SHIP THEM. And here we are. I hope you all enjoy, cause _I_ am certainly going to. It's a long road to hell might as well laugh all the way down.

They’re somewhere over the Atlantic ocean, half-dead, and more than a little hungry when Sam finally chooses to speak.

“So…” He clicks his tongue, “mangoes, huh?”

Nathan’s been trying for the past hour to sketch all the details he’d seen in Libertalia, to the gibbets, the foliage, the sort of baroque architectural motifs that was typical of seventeenth-century colonialism. And. And the fauna. And okay maybe he’s just drawing lemurs. More lemurs than is possibly required. But c’mon it’s lemurs. Who can really say no to lemurs? The heartless, that’s what. With their cute little paws and-

“Yeah-huh” Nate nods, slowly and reluctantly drawing away from his notes, “mangoes, they’re good. So good” He shades in the fur a little more, “I could probably do with some- wait what I say?”

Across from him, Sam is giggling. No really, he’s giggling.

“Care to share with the class, Teach?” and Nate can't help but smile.

“Oh no, you just keep on doing what you’re doing” Sam puts his hands up, shaking his head. There’s a dangerous sort of smile spreading across his lips, and Nate just knows they're not just going to leave it at that. Drake stubbornness at its finest. Nate rolls his eyes, he’ll bite.

“C’mon spill the beans Sam, I know you want to”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he side-eyes Nathan and says a little too lightly “you’ve probably had a concussion too many”

“I’ll have you know I have a very sturdy head”

“I’m sure you do.” Sam agrees, grinning still.

“Oh c’mon just tell me, what’d I say?”

“Mangoes”

“Yeah, mangoes.”

“ _Man-goes_ ”

“Uhuh”

Sam rolls his eyes, “ _Mangoes is my safe word?_ Ring any bells to you?”

“Wait you heard that?” Nathan felt a flush drive up his neck, suddenly feeling eleven years old again.

“Yeah. Yeah I did, and I got to say little bro, I’m not surprised…” Sam throws his legs up on a nearby crate and tsks.

“Okay, first of all, that’s not even true, and second of all- wait what”

“I mean all that running around,” Sam elaborates, taking the shock blanket from the side, “getting into danger, getting bruises. I mean you’ve got to like the chase to do it”

“I could say the same for you, brainiac,” Nate says flatly. “I mean what are you now? My therapist?”

“Ah ah ah I keep hearing replies, but I’m not hearing a no.” He glances at Nate knowingly.

“Sam you know double negatives are my weakness”

Sam just lifts brow in response, knowing exactly what type of deflection that was. It was a lame one. Okay, a very lame one, judging by the look Sam is giving. It didn't even qualify as a double negative, it was just two negatives in a sentence.

Nate shakes his head, he is not going into the finer points of grammar. And he's definitely not going to tell his big brother that he may or may not be into some kinks. He isn’t. He refuses. Even when Sam is there humming, and whistling, and looking at him like he already knows the goddamn answer. Especially then. They’ll just have to wait. And wait. And-

“Mangoes though? Really? I mean-” 

“Okay! Fine! I have a safe word”

“Hah! I knew it” 

“Oh shut up”

“Mine was peaches” Sam cheerfully adds.

Silence. Sam sniffs a little bit as he pulls the blanket over him, before looking back at Nate.

"What?"

“Peaches.”

“Mhmm” Sam hums, settling into his makeshift nap spot. “I’m doing just peachy, you know? Thought it would be uh, what's the word again? Ironic?”

“Ironic?”

“What? You don’t think so?”

“You’ve been busting my balls over a safe word for the past minute and then you say you have one?”

“I, my dearest little brother, have no shame. You on the other hand...” He opens one eye, “do. Besides, we don’t do kink-shame here. It’s very important to know your limits, what you _can_ and _can’t_ do, yadda yadda yadda etcetera. I mean sex is sexy, but consent is sexier you know?”

He’s right. Obviously, he’s right. But Nate still feels the urge to throw the nearest thing at his brother. Seeing that the nearest thing was a frag grenade, _what the hell Sully_ , Nate abstained from the impulse.

“Really Nate,” Sam yawns into his hand and pulls the blanket tighter around him, “don’t act so surprised. I mean, hell you said it yourself.” 

Then he mutters “Granted you were a little bit off”

“A little bit off? A little bit off from what?”

Sam snorts. “You know Seventeenth century Spanish, Latin, middle English and passable conversational Arabic. And you’re stuck on a little 21st century English? Nate, you’re losing your touch”

“Entertain me, will you?”

Sam closes his eyes as he speaks, “I don’t like the chase Nate," And he smiles that queer little smile of his.

"I love it.”


	2. Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this weeks episode: Nadine Ross in a dolphin suit.

A flurry of Spanish words spills across the night air, scattering like marbles. A peal of laughter there, drops in conversations here, the sweet low notes of a trumpet playing jazz and feet pattering across the cobbles.

The normal life had finally and truly seemed to catch up with one, Nathan Drake.

Not that having a vacation isn't pleasant. Because it is. But out of all the things that people usually find normal, Nate can honestly say, that _this_? This wasn't one of them. Sitting around, having dinner in Tossa De Mar as if this was the yearly family vacation. Catching up with things, asking Sully or Sam how things were and how they weren't. It feels like some sort of bizarro dream. Nate half expects a mercenary army to pop up somewhere or have another long lost sibling to show up and break up the illusion.

_Nadine Ross comes from street, dressed in the town mascot, the dolphin and with an expert flick she pulls out a gun with a flipper-_

“Hey Nate, you still with us?” Sam whispers under his breath.

Nate snaps to reality, blinking at the sight of Sam who looks a little more than amused.

“Yeah,” Nate mentally shakes the last of images,” of course I am. What makes you say that?”

Sam’s grin widens and gestures with his beer “You’ve been holding that churro for a minute now”

Nate looks back at his hand, and _ah_ Sam was right. There was, indeed, a churro. 

Nate ignores the flush rising up his neck, “That was on purpose. You’ve got to- you’ve got to aerate the churro. I mean geez Sam, don’t you know that?”

“Aerate. Right.”

“Google it”

“I will indeed, google it”

A pause.

“You don’t know what that means, don’t you?”

“No. No, I do not” And Sam takes a deep swing of his beer, smiling still.

Nate snorts. That moment might come or might not come, but Nate's going to have a hell of a time either way. He's got to get his head in the game. He has to take the moment by the hands and savour it.

Which speaking of, oh. _Oh man_. These churros were good, illegal sort of good. The crisp delicate layer of the outside breaks with a satisfying crunch. And the inside is soft and fluffy and subtly sweet. But it's the chocolate -it always is- that's really got Nate. It's rich and bitter and perfect for tempering the granulated sugar crust, battling and landing somewhere in between bitter and sweet. He sighs, finally listening to what's being said.

“I mean out of all the things Ainsley could have stole,” Elena giggles “he steals earbuds?”

“That guy was a mitochondriac” Sully slurs a little, pointing his unlit cigar to Nate and Sam. It causes Elena to giggle even louder.

“Uh, Sully, don’t you mean a hypochondriac?” Sam comes to answer, absently fishing for a churro from Nate’s pile. After getting swatted for the third time, he looks to Nate, his eyes pleading.

“C’mon share will you?” Sam mutters to Nate under his breath. “I’m doing you a favour”

Nate snorts, incredulous “A favour? How?”

“Between you and me, don’t you think you’ve developed a little bit of a- how do you say- _panza de cerveza?_ ”

“Ah hah. Very funny. You know between both of us, I think I’m the one doing you the favour” He takes a bite out of the churro he’s working on, shaking his head before turning back to Sully and Elena.

As it stood, Sully and Elena are still swapping stories about that show-biz guy named Ainsley. Elena’s hands a blur of movement, trying to explain the one time Ainsley stole a pot of prop meatballs and Victor is laughing just at the right moments. The lanterns strewn above them don’t hide anything. Sully’s wrinkles are deeper, and Elena’s freckles show up a little more, but it’s nice. It looks better than nice. It’s them. 

Nate’s palm itches for a camera, he should have brought it down instead of leaving it in their room. And he’s about to say it to Sam, about how he’s becoming more Elena than Nate nowadays but the words don’t come. His mouth is stuck between syllables.

Because there Sam is, looking on with a quiet sort of smile. A smile that Nate feels like he hasn’t seen for years.

The train of thought in Nate’s head, obviously, of course it would be, screeches to a halt.

“Hey, Nate you okay? You’ve been spacing out on me,” Sam asks, eyes furrowed. For a single stupid moment, Nate thinks of saying otherwise. Thinks of saying no. But he works his tongue, too used to being slick, and too used to using a cover up.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine"

Sam gives him a look.

"Look I'm better than fine. I've got two churros, you see?"

Sam rolls his eyes.

"Okay, fine whatever you say, Nate"

But he doesn't press. He turns back to the conversation.

And the relief that just flows through Nate is something that Nate really doesn't examine right now. He looks at everything else but _it_. He glances to the sea, still in the harbour, looking like a black mirror. He looks at the moon, hanging in the sky like the perfect silver dime. He looks at the cobblestones, glossy and shined by hot shoes and a hot sun. He looks but he's not really seeing.

What Nate's really trying to do is stop himself before it gets messy. Stop himself before his emotions spiral out of control. So it's good, it great, that he's had so much practice, because within the next moment, he's ready. Nate turns back to Sam, a quip on his lips-

And.

And of course, Sam’s got a churro in his mouth. Of course he does. Sam smiles sheepishly back, slowly moving to rise.

“Why are you-” Then with dawning suspicion, Nate whips his head to the basket of churros. Empty. “Oh you asshole!” 

Nate shoots up just as Sam bolts, the ends of his blue polo dancing right out of his reach. Within moments they are shadows of each other, sprinting down the old quarters, Nate trailing behind just by seconds. 

La Tossa De Mer wasn't an area the Drake brothers were familiar with, but then again, the night was just getting started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _To jerk who never shares,_   
>  _Sorry for taking your last two cheetos. Drunk Sully made me write this. Drunk me writng this. Since when did he become our dad?? Nate when happen???? He keeps calling me Rosita, who is that???? Also if it makes you feel any better, it was delicious. with a capital D._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _ok_  
>  _ok_  
>  _I'm goin sign off,_
> 
>  
> 
> _okay bnight,_  
>  \- a poorly scrawled note, slid underneath Nate and Elena's hotel room


	3. Sibling Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on this weeks chapter: The Drake Brothers being The Drake Brothers

Any newspaper worth a dime has Sam's story up on the front page. The news channel is in Greek but that hardly ever matters when the words Atlantis and a picture of Sam’s grinning face is tacked on beside it.

Sam’s got a new identity, of course. Heat has been following him ever since he and Nate took down most of Shoreline. And a little investment like that goes a long long way.

Obviously, they’ve had to keep some of the details in, that was unavoidable. For example, the orphanage, some of their affiliations, the Panamanian jail stint. Though Nate’s glad to hear that Sam’s name has been cleared for.

But the rest of it?

The rest of it’s gone alongside a Spanish doubloon or two.

It’s almost impersonal, Nate thinks as he chews his cheek. All except for one thing.

Sam kept it.

“Would you say you’re familiar with the discoveries of Nathan Drake? You two share a last name.”

“You mean my brother?” He snorts, and gives the reporter a lazy smile. He’s standing by the same pier where they hauled off the first of the artifacts, hair wet, and the sun shining. He’s tying the arms of his wetsuit around his waist, leaving all his chest exposed and it pings somewhere in Nate’s head that Sam’s up to something. He snaps back to the interview when Sam speaks again.

“Yeah, course I do.” He chuckles, adding with a grin, “I thought you guys did research”

“We weren’t certain that it was your real name”

“Well, now you are, Samuel Drake at your service, nice to meet you.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye and a smirk that says the opposite of what it should be. It’s not a friendly smirk. It’s nowhere even close. But it isn’t a taunt or a tease either. No, that smirk was undoubtedly and inexplicably, Sam’s little way of saying that he’s up for a challenge. And more than ready for one.

Nate groans into the palm of his hand as realises this. _Of course, he’s trying to hook up with someone on live tv. Of course, he is._

The sound of coughing that follows after does not go unnoticed by anyone. And it sounds particularly loud after that remark. But. But Nate has to hand it to the reporter, they recover quick.

“The legendary Nathan Drake is your brother?”

“Now,” Sam mock-affronted “I wouldn’t exactly call him legendary. I mean he’s arrogant, impulsive, _stingy_ ” Sam pointedly looks into the camera as he makes that remark, “but legendary? Now _that_ would be a bit of stretch.”

“So you’re treasure hunting brothers?”

“Oh no, those discoveries were all made by him. And we don't really hunt treasure anymore.” He scratches his head, showing off his biceps and looking a little bashful. Nate rolls his eyes, _bashful my ass._

Sam continues, gesturing behind him “I mean most of this stuff is going to the Department of Culture and the local museums. I’ve gotta change it up a little, you know? I can’t be too predictable”

“So would you say you both have a healthy sibling rivalry when it comes to this type of work?”

By the look on Sam’s face, that question takes him by surprise. He hums a little, the look he’s giving the reporter is an assessing one. The smile after that though. That smile is trouble.

“Sibling rivalry?” Sam says with an easy as you please tone, “I mean I guess you can call it that. He's gotten the City of Ubar and Shangri-La. But let's be honest here, it really isn’t a competition when the city I rediscovered is, uh how do you say,” He pauses, gesturing in the air as if he could catch the word, “ _completely and utterly intact_ ”

_Oh that dick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Those cities had to be destroyed, the *world* depended on it_ \- seen 1:03
> 
>  _Whatever helps you sleep at night, Nate_ \- sent 1:04 
> 
> _Hey if I hadn't saved the world, twice, neither of us would be sleeping right now_ \- seen 1:04
> 
>  _If you hadn't texted me, I would be sleeping right now_ \- sent 1:05
> 
>  _Yeah well you deserve it_ \- seen 1:05
> 
>  _Gnight Nate_ \- sent 1:07
> 
>  _You're an ass, I hope you know that_ \- seen 1:10
> 
>  _An ass with a shiny title. The man who rediscovered Atlantis after two millenia, Samuel Drake_ \- sent 1:10
> 
>  _Don't let it get to your head, might not fit through doors now_ \- seen 1:11
> 
>  _I'll be fine_ \- sent 1:11
> 
>  _You better be. Stay safe_ \- seen 1:11
> 
>  _Roger that, Captain_ \- sent 1:12
> 
> \- Text messages from Sam's Nokia
> 
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> (Was feelin a bit ick about this chapter, ngl, but what can you do? *shrugs* what do you think of these lil mini snapshots at the bottom? Is it cute? Should I stop? hmu tell me how you feel my doods)


	4. In Shining Armour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this week's chapter: raccoons and continuing the legacy

“C’mon. Say it. It isn’t so hard. It’s just one, iddy-little syllable”

“I’m not going to say it”

“Oh c’mon Nate, we’ll be here all day”

“I am not going to say it. I’m just not”

“Then I guess you’re not going to need my help then”

“Okay! Fine! Fine.” Nate sighs resignedly, “Sir Samuel Drake can you please give me some salt”

“Ah see, that wasn’t so bad” Sam smiles, Chesire-like and gives him the sachet. Nate rolls his eyes, _of course Sam’s going to be an ass about it._

“Admit it though,” He bumps Nate’s shoulder, “It is going to be pretty neat standing there with a bunch of nobles and being the only one, and I mean _the only_ one, there to bargain with a raccoon.”

A laugh bubbles up from Nate’s throat, remembering the incident. 

“That was for the last chicken nugget right?”

“No, no, you’re getting it wrong Nate.” He pinches the air with thumb and forefinger as if the gesture would clear up his point, “It was for my dignity”

“Dignity? Ooh I’m going to have to whip out my treasure hunting skills to find that one”

“If you have any” Sam snorts.

“It was a raccoon, Sam”

A beat passes and a honk of a ship blares in the distance.

“Okay maybe you’re right-”

“Of course I am-”

“But the point is- I mean Jesus Nate,” Sam lets out an incredulous chuckle, “I’m getting knighted. Can you believe that? I don’t think I’d ever be knighted, not even my wildest dreams”

He stares out onto the pier with a smile so quiet and so genuine, that Nate thinks if they had all the time in the world, all the resources to do whatever they wanted, Sam would still choose this. Just them, granted a little bit bruised and battered, sitting on a bench, eating greasy salty chips. But they could do this and just watch the world go by. 

The profile of Sam’s face is lit up by the last rays of sunshine, and Nate traces with his eyes, the outline of Sam’s hair. Somehow gold seems to thread through it and catch at its edges. It's a good look on Sam, Nate decides. He turns back to the view in front of them, Stockholm's harbour is a flurry of activity as the dusk settles.

They really should be going. 

But.

But not before this.

“Sic Parvis Magna right Sam?” Nate holds up a potato chip to toast.

“Sic Parvis Magna, Nathan” Sam grins at him, knocking their chips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _To one Samuel Drake,_   
>  _We, on behalf of the Swedish crown, would like to reiterate our many thanks for saving the life, our Crown Princess Victoria, Duchess of Västergötland. Your ingenuity, bravery, and compassion proved to be invaluable at the time of crisis. However, it is unfortunate that we must inform you, that we cannot allow your brother to stand beside you as you are knighted so that "you can rub it in". He is, however, welcome to stay in designated family area, as well as the event later that evening._
> 
>  
> 
> _We hope this letter finds you in good health, and godspeed,_  
>  _Joen Hopp, Royal Attendant of their Majesties_
> 
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> 
> (If anybody wants to get the lowdown on how exactly Sam did all of the above, dw I'll be writing a fic about it soon. If you can't wait for that then hmu on tumblr ;) sea-sighs or in-diem, though the later is specifically for Uncharted. Peeaaacee! )


	5. Blood bank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this weeks chapter: Nate gets shot. Set pre-Panama

Shooting is simple. You reload, you fire, you hope.

Getting shot at is even more so. 

Getting shot at is chaos.

The wood splinters right where Nate’s head used to be, the staccato pop of guns piercing the air. Dust plumes, showering them both and as they cough, Nate sees something flying towards them.

“Oh shit! Sam get down!”

Without a second thought, Nate shoves Sam away, tumbling into the dust and into a different direction. There’s a millisecond of stillness, and then the world explodes in colour and sound, shards of pink tile shattering towards Nathan, the blast ringing in his ears.

“Nate!” Sam’s voice calls, rising above all the gunshots.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!”

Nate looks around in the settling dust, searching for cover that’s a little less wood and little more concrete. He curses when he finds what he’s looking for. A stone pillar that’s essentially a river of bullets away. If he could cross, if he could not get shot, if he could get to Sam somehow, it’ll turn out fine. But there’s a lot of if’s going into that picture, and Nate doesn’t like his chances.

He shuffles a little towards it, readying himself to roll at the right moment. He doesn’t see the man coming out from behind him.

Within a blur, Nate is exposed, tackled onto the tiled flooring. Instinct takes over then. The weight on him pins him down but Nate still dodges, putting as much of him into his punches as he can. Around him, guns are still firing, but Nate’s just focused on not getting choked to death. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the merc slumps over Nate, body heavy and cloying. Nate doesn’t spend a second longer, shoving the man off and launching himself into the concrete cover.

His heart beats like a hammer when he reaches the pillar, slumping down, to rest just for a moment. He sucks in two deep breaths and-

And-

He can’t breathe. Nate looks down.

_No, no no no._

Blood begins to bloom on his stomach, spreading like a spilled glass. The adrenaline that’s been keeping him up for so long starts to fade, and the pain begins to twist together inside of him until it’s all he can think about.

Nate barely recognises the scream tearing out of throat as his own. His head spins dizzy with the feeling. He has to put pressure it. If it’s the one thing he’s learned from trash action films is that he has to do that. His hands, sweat soaked and grubby, grasp at the wet fabric and with a deep inhale, Nate presses his hands against it.

The world blurs at the edges, Nate has to-

_Oh god-_

He can’t-

_Fuck that hurts so bad_

Nate can’t pass out.

He stifles the scream that’s scraping up his throat and hisses through his teeth. Nate has this. He just has to breathe right? Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Simple. Nate can’t pass out. If he passes out he’s going to die. So he can’t. Even though the idea is getting more attractive by the second. 

And for a moment, it seems like that option just might win out. Around Nathan, a fire has somehow started and the grenades are only getting closer. If Nate wasn’t certain he was still alive then he might have thought he’d gone straight to hell.

But then that moment passes and it comes, blessed and clean. That numbness. The shock. The building might be coming down at any second now, but for all that Nate cares, he’s in the eye of the storm.

“Nate, hold on!”

A vision of Sam swims in front of him, his hair a mess and face dirt-streaked. Some part of Nate, the hysterical part, wants to laugh. Sam looks like he’s just gotten out of bed. Like a bed of dirt. Like a hobbit bed. But instead, he just nods, the cotton filling up his thoughts. Another scatter of bullets hit the wall beside them, showering them with debris.

Sam reaches for him, but in the dirt and dust, it’s all becoming the same.

Sam reaches for him and a blast burns away the world

 

-

 

 _“Can’t you drive any faster?”_ A voice fires away in rapid French. 

They’re going somewhere, and it’s warm and dark. The _car, van, truck_ jostles and the burning ache that sits in Nate’s stomach flares and sharpens. He chokes out a groan, the pain crashing like a tide.

“Shh. Shh. I know.” the sounds wash and warble over Nate’s ears, pulling him away and away-

A hand presses over Nate’s own and the pain bursts open again, eating him from the inside out. Nate feels like screaming but the voice is there again, quiet and familiar.

“I know it hurts, Nate I know. Just hold on a little longer okay?”

It’s all Nate can do to gasp and suck in air. Another. And then another and another. Just to hold on. 

He doesn’t know why he trusts the voice. He can’t think of a reason why. Not when every inch of Nate is screaming at him. But there’s a hand is by his head, warm and steady and familiar, carding through his hair and it’s all that Nate needs to focus on right now. 

A streetlight passes over head, a shaft of light arcing in the small space. It’s only a split second but it’s all that Nate needs.

“Sam?” his voice is scrap-torn and shred.

“Nate?” The shadow comes into focus. Sam’s eyes are wrinkled with worry, hands trembling as he brushes Nate’s hair. “Nate, we’re going to get you out of here okay?”

“Yeah,” Nate replies shakily, “sounds good”

Light catches by Sam’s eyes, and it takes a moment to realise that they’re a little misty. That his cheeks are a little wet. _Shit,_ Sam was crying.

“Hey hey, I’m not dead yet” Nate reaches up weakly, to wipe them away. He brushes Sam’s cheek, and he feels rather than sees how Sam chuckles, his thumb passing the wrinkles, feeling the low soft vibrations.

“You’re such an idiot”

It’s an ugly wet sort of snort escapes Sam, weak and almost quiet.

“I know”

Nate passes out feeling warm.

 

-

The light burns white under his eyelids. He hears a crash, and then a shout.

“The _only_ reason, the only reason you’re still alive is because you’re the only one that can save him. So do it”

It’s Sam. His voice is broken-glass sharp, angry and snarled.

“I’m sorry”

“Just do it.”

-

 

Nate wakes up knowing something is immediately wrong. He knows this because although he has slept in many different places, he’s never had a bed feel _this_ nice before. The alarm comes through a hazy warm fog, and as he struggles to keep the thought in the forefront, he hears a loud beep.

Nate opens his eyes, blinking as it adjusts to the lighting. Oh. He’s in a hospital. Which was never good. But why-

Images come unbidden before him, flashing one after another, a dizzying array of colour and feelings. His hands stained with his own blood. The whole building collapsing. Sam in the truck. His voice. The pain. Red. 

Nate got shot.

He glances down at his torso, looking at the plain white bandages, and Nate has to admit, he wants to laugh a little bit. His whole body might as well not be there because Nate can’t feel a single damn thing. 

He comes to the quick conclusion that he’s probably drugged up on morphine and on more painkillers than he’s had in his entire life. Which was nice of them. Explains the whole _floating-this-bed-is-the-best_ feeling. Nate appreciates it, he does. _Really_. But it’s not exactly ideal when his fingers feel a little like clouds. There’s a clip on his thumb and he wiggles it experimentally. Another loud beep draws Nate’s eyes to the heart monitor to his side.

It’s strange and mesmerising to see evidence that he’s still alive. He watches as the red line go up and down and up and-

_Hey hey, I’m not dead yet_

_You’re such an idiot_

Where was- 

Oh.

Slumped over and almost spilling onto the bed, was Sam. His head rests a little on Nate’s thigh, and his hand is wrapped around Nathan’s left hand, holding it. If Nate focuses, he can feel it. The warmth of Sam’s hand. His calluses. The rough pad of his fingers. 

It’s a focal point for Nate’s thoughts to gather around. He sucks in a deep breath and once he feels like he isn’t going to pass out, Nate starts to really look at Sam.

He looks better than the last time Nate saw him. But. But not by much. Sure, he’s cleaned up, there isn’t dirt and grime on his face and his hands aren’t shaking, but there are bags underneath his eyes, purplish and deep, looking like bruises.

That was Drake stubbornness for you, Nate huffs and rolls his eyes.

He slides his gaze back down to their hands, chewing the inside of his cheek before finally deciding. Nate stretches out his fingers in preparation, testing them out a little more. Then with a touch light like feathers, he moves his wrist to intertwine their fingers.

When Sam wakes up, he’ll _know_

Nate takes one last look at him, sleep tugging and curling around his thoughts.

When Sam wakes up, he’ll know they’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Doctor’s notes:  
>  _The risk of tension pneumothorax was minimized due to the crucial and early aid of Patient’s brother. His blood donation in the hours that followed was critical in such short notice._  
>  -  
>  _After three days, Patient’s internal fluids have finally been stabilised. Luckiest patient I’ve ever seen. Bullets hit no vital organs, despite the ricochet._  
>  -  
>  _Patient’s brother has been breaking in every single night to stay with patient beyond visiting hours. Please for further practice, allow the door to be open at night shifts, Patient’s health is no longer in jeopardy._  
>  **We cannot afford another lock**  
>   
> 
>    
>  
> 
> (Sorry for the slightly late update! This was a bigger chapter than expected! As always thank you for reading and if you liked it lemme know what you think!)


	6. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this weeks late (im sorry guys!) chapter: Sam can't read Italian very well. Also set pre-Panama, but after last weeks chapter

“You two partner?” The little old Italian woman asks, her eyes crinkling with a gentle smile.

“Oh! Yeah, yes.” Nate huffs out, the words tumbling out from his mouth,“ Uh thank you, for helping us not get holes in us- I mean uhm- not get shot”

His head is still spinning. From being in shit creek to coming out without a single stain, you couldn’t exactly blame Nate not having words as top priority.

Sam bursts out in giggles on the other side of the room.

Nate really doesn’t know why Sam is still alive after all these years.

_Not get holes in us really?_ Sam mouths out the words as the last of his laughter leaves him, his whole body curling with it.

Nate shoots him a glare.

“What he means to say,” and Sam doesn’t look away from Nate, his smile indulgent, “is thank you.” and then with a little more sincerity, glancing down at the unconscious mercenary on the floor “Thank you for saving our lives. It could have ended badly.”

“It is no mention,” She waves them away with a smile. She turns to Sam, pokes a finger towards him in way only the old and wise can do, and says “I see you love him very much”

For a moment silence rings out in the room. Pure and still and perfect. 

“Uh yeah” Sam blurts out, brain restarted, and recovering first. He blinks and glances back at Nate “I guess I sort of do.”

Nate meets his gaze, feeling a little more than stunned. His heart isn't in it when he speaks next, but it's just a matter of reflex at this point 

“I’m going to ignore that pause before you said yes.”

“Oh give me a break,” Sam says as he walks towards Nate, back to normal, back into the rhythm, “I needed to weigh out the pros and cons”

“Wow Sam, don’t hurt my feelings it’s not even as if I’m human or anything.” Nate shoves him when they meet in the middle, “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“Let’s be honest Nate, _it is_ a bad thing.”

Nate huffs.

“Typical”

Sam’s response is dies in his throat, cut off by a snort that quickly becomes into laughter. They turn to the sound, eyes landing on the old grandmother behind the desk.

“You two remind me of husband. Very grumpy”

“You hear that Sam?” Nate laughs, “You’re grumpy.”

“Hey I’m just being honest.”

Nate rolls his eyes, smiling still, “That’s a little rich coming from you”

Sam shrugs and he wraps an arm around Nate’s shoulder, “You know what? I can live with that”

They stumble up to the desk together, too tired to do anything else.

“Uh sorry for the mess.” Nate says this time “Can we still book a room here?” 

The grandmother smiles, adjusting her title desk wedge for a moment, and says an accented “Yes”

The sunlight bounces off the brass. In crisp New Times Roman, it spells out _receptionist._

“We have many free rooms. We also have special offer since low season, would you like?”

“Yeah sounds good! We’ll take it”

It isn’t long before Sam and old woman finishes hashing out the details. She passes them the ledger for signatures and Sam signs his with a quick flourish, blowing a little for the ink to dry. When it’s Nate’s turn, he takes a little more time in reading it. He wasn’t paying attention before, and it never hurt to double check.

“How long been partner for?”

“Ah, it’s hard to say. Years” Sam answers this time.

“You very young”

“Yeah, it’s a long story” Sam laughs a little, scratching the back of his neck.

Grandma shrugs and smiles, “We no judge.”

“Uh Sam-”

“Thank you again for helping us out”

“I understand. For one you love, you do everything”

“Uh Sam,”

“Yeah, god help me but-”

“Sam!”

“Nathan what?” 

“Sam it’s the honeymoon suite.”

“The honeymoon suite?” His eyebrows furrow, then ”The honeymoon suite? But we’re not-?”

“Partners.” Nate finishes it for him.

“Is problem?” The old lady asks. Her face twists in concern, wrinkles wrapping wrinkles. Nate’s just tempted to say to hell with it, no, there isn’t but. But.

“It’s just that-”

Sam adds “We aren’t exactly-”

“We’re not-”

“We’re-”

“Ah no need be shy! There is extra twenty percent discount! No need to hide!”

Sam grips his shoulder.

“Nathan.” His name comes out like a gunshot. It cuts through whatever Nate was planning to say, needed to say.

“What?” Nate glances at his brother and does a double take. Sam is lifting his brow.

“Oh no. No we are not doing that.”

Sam’s looks to him, head dipping a little, his eyes boring into Nate’s. _Oh my god._ It’s all that Nate can do to not kick Sam in the shin. He hurls a glare back

Sam lifts a brow even higher. 

Nate feels his face scrunch up. 

Sam tilts his head a little more, shrugging his shoulders. 

Nate groans and shoots him another look. 

Sam rolls his eyes but sighs in response. They share one final look. 

“We’re going to have to pass-” 

“We’ll take it!” Sam chirps 

Nate whips to look at Sam. 

“ _Darling_ ” Sam he pulls Nate closer with his arm. A shmuck of a smile is plastered onto his face. 

“ _Samuel_ ” 

“I think me and my partner need to have a time out.” He doesn’t spare a single glance at the receptionist “Excuse us if you will” 

As soon as they’re out earshot Sam hisses through his gritted teeth, 

“It’s an extra twenty percent” 

“ _You,_ kick in your sleep!” Nate accuses, whispering right back. 

“ _You_ cling to me when I sleep. It’s twenty percent Nate, two zero. Last time I check we aren’t exactly rolling in piles of treasure. And what if one of us needs bail, huh?” 

“Oh c’mon we haven’t been caught in months!” 

“Well it wouldn’t hurt” 

“We’ve never needed a second plan” 

“Well, maybe we should this time” Sam says softer. Both of them think to accident in Marseille a few months ago, the phantom pain panging at Nate’s side. Nate glances back to the receptionist and knows that Sam is right. _God damn it._

“Fine!” 

“Yes!” Sam bounces, fist pumping in the air. 

“It better be a big bed.” Nate grumbles as they walk back to the desk. 

“The biggest Nate” 

“And you better not hog all the sheets” 

“When have I ever?” 

“Lucerne? Cartagena? Ystad?” 

“Okay, okay point taken.” 

“And you’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever known” 

“Yeah yeah yea- hey!” 

Nate snorts as he bypasses Sam and heads up the stairs. 

“But you love me anyways! Right?” Sam calls up, hefting up their bags. Nate rolls his eyes, feeling a smile curl the corner of his lips. 

“Right?” 

Nate doesn’t reply. He shakes his head and walks up the stairs. 

“Right? Nate? Nate!?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Signore Drake,_   
>  _We are concerned. For you and your partner. We have very discrete policies so you do not need be ashamed. We also have good cleaning service here! Best in Calabria! However, if it is different issue, we recommend eating figs and almonds. My husband says it is good for invigoration!_
> 
> _Lucrezia, the hotel receptionist_
> 
>  
> 
>    
> \- a note written on embossed paper and given to Sam after a week of their stay.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> God bless the receptionist, Lucrezia, she loves love. Anyways I hoped you liked that, and if you didn't, I'd love to hear why so I can improve on my writing! I'm terribly sorry for such a late update, I've only recently returned to University so my heads been up and about. Cool fic fact: originally Blood Bank the last chapter, this chapter and the next one was all supposed to be one chapter :0 But I felt that some parts were dissonant, so I split them up and made them into different chapters. Crazy how some things work huh :o


	7. Wicked Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this weeks (incredibly late sweet jesus) chapter: Sam loses a lot of things.
> 
> A loose continuation of the last two chapters.
> 
> Set Pre-Panama

Sam walks down the street with the confidence of a man who has done this all before. Who has seen this, all before. Who has thrived on occasions like this all before.

Which.

Given his history, is completely and utterly accurate.

But it’s not-

Look it’s not that Sam’s naked naked. He’s got his shoes on, which clack with every step he takes, he’s got his socks, coloured in a stately navy, and he’s got the black eye which is practically Sam’s statement piece at this point. He’s even got a scrap of cloth to protect his grace this time, which is more than Nate can say all the other times. It’s just that-

Sam’s pale asscheeks jiggle in the swarmy summer air.

Well Sam was naked in all the ways that matter.

There’s a part of Nate’s mind that wants to crawl into small small hole and die. Die with the realisation that Nate has the misfortune of not only knowing Sam, but realising that in some small way or form this person shared the same brain cells as him. Shared the same blood. Shared the same name. 

But.

But if Nate did every time Sam _just_ decided to get naked, well they wouldn’t get anything done. 

As it stands Nate settles on begrudging resignation and somewhat stifled horror. The weather really must be getting to him because Nate just _can't_ look away. 

“So do you have it?” and Nate is glad Sam can’t see him. His eyes are tracing the line where sun-kissed skin meets paleness. The line is almost too uniform and sits high on the back of Sam’s thighs. _When did Sam even have time to sunbathe? Was Sam really that tanned?_

“Do I have it?” Sam scoffs, bringing Nate right back into the present. Sam glances back and Nate grimaces. When he’s not getting an ~~assful~~ , an eyeful Nate’s getting the occasional swing

“Yes Sam. Do you have it?” and Nate is tempted to cover his eyes “ _Jesus,_ you couldn’t have chosen your shoes first?”

“And get my socks dirty? Do you know how much these socks cost Nate? It was-”

“-I was with you when you got them!”

“-a thousand baht Nate. A thousand-”

“Sam.”

“ _-baht._ ”

“Sam can you just-” and Nate shrugs off his jacket, “take this please?”

“Ah ah ah you might not want to take it off Nate”

Nate tries to stifle his groan, he knows what that tone means. Knows exactly where they were headed.

“Now why,” and Nate lays his resignation thickly ”would I not want to do that Sam?”

“Have you _honestly_ learned nothing from me?”

He glances at the locals, giving them a friendly wave. One of them visible snarls. Nate winces.

“Except how not to play Wicked Grace?”

Sam turns around, sighing deeply and thoroughly as if Nate’s the one who's naked. As if Nate’s the one whose testing his patience.

“No Nathan. It’s that one should never ever underestimate their opponent.”

“You mean…. Aromdee?”

“I mean one should never underestimate _me_ , Nate.”

They stare at each other for a moment, pausing in their footsteps.

“Owee was in” Sam elaborates and it takes a moment for the words to sink in. Nate thinks back to the dark smoky room and the woman sitting across from them with eyes sharper than knives. Her hair was so sleek it looked like living ink and Nate was pretty sure that when she had taken off her shirt, it was more of a personal courtesy than one out of incompetence. 

In essence, she was the complete polar opposite of Sam, so you can’t blame Nate for not being so sold on the idea.

“You mean..?”

“Yes Nate. She was _in_ on it, so don’t worry when she knocks tomorrow morning holding our share of cash. She’s isn’t always as nice”

Nate wants to laugh, relief flooding him. He thought Sam had blew off all their money just to prove a point. Then that moment quickly and abruptly ends when Nate’s brain catches up to him.

“Wait wait so let me get this straight. Not only did we just steal from one of the most notoriously dangerous men in Thailand, you used Owee to act as your what- your wingwoman? To steal even more money right from Aromdee’s nose?”

Sam smacks his lips, grinning like a cat who got the cream, “That’s the long and short of it.”

Nate feels his face twist “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

And Sam's grin falters. It's a millisecond, just a millisecond but it's enough for Nate to notice. It's enough to make him even angrier. 

“Nathan," His voice light, enunciating the two syllables slowly, leisurely, "have you seen your poker face? Wait no, don’t answer that one cause you.” And Sam pokes him with his free hand, “don’t have one.”

“Don't make this about me Sam.”

He swats away the hand on his shoulder.

Sam shakes his head, "I'm not! Nate, look, you said it yourself. With a guy like Aromdee, we needed all the help we can get-”

“ _I_ could have helped.”

“And you _did-_ ”

“You know what I mean." Nate hurls back. 

A beat of silence. Sam sighs, looking more tired than he's been all night. 

"Nate." And Sam tilts his head, "why are you so hung up on this? We got the job done. No harm and no foul."

" _Jesus Sam_ do you even hear yourself right now?"

Sam groans, "What's it this time Nathan?" 

" _What's it this time Nathan?_ Are you kidding me? If it had gone pear-shaped. If anything had gone wrong- Sam, you'd be the first in the firing line." 

"But it didn't! So it doesn't matter!" Sam bursts at him, drawing even more eyes to them. For a moment, Sam just looks around, his chest heaving. And then, like a balloon deflating, his body just curls in on itself, defeated. He turns back to Nate. "Nathan _please..."_ " 

"Sam what the hell is this about?" 

His breath feels high and tight inside of him, but Nate can't look away now. Not when Sam is looking back at him like that. Not when Sam's face is crumpling before his very eyes and guilt etches its way into the very way that Sam is standing. The revelation hits Nate like a brick wall. 

"You're still not over it." Nate says, feather soft and quiet. Sam doesn't deny it. He just looks away to ground, breathing lowly. 

"Holy shit Sam-"

“Can we just-” Sam looks to him, eyebrows lifted, lips slightly parted in a sigh. “I'm still sort of naked so can we just drop it? ”

" _"Just drop it?"_ " Nate sucks a sharp breath in. “Sam you know this is pretty much in the job description. Getting shot at. Dealing with dangerous people-”

“I know-” Sam starts, high-pitched, defensive. 

“This isn’t Marseilles again. I can handle myself-”

“Nathan I know! Let me just,” And Sam palms his eyes, ”Just listen okay. I know you can. Just give me time to remind myself of that okay?”

The chatter of the street fills up all the blanks in the space.

Distantly, Nate notes that someone’s shouting. That someone’s laughing. And Nate wants to be mad. He really really wants to. But when you’re looking at it from the outside in. Looking at Sam who’s got just a piece of cloth to cover his dick and his stupid formal shoes and even more stupid looking socks. Well.

_God Sam was going to be the death of him._

“You’re such an asshole.” 

“I know-”

“You let me think that you bombed on purpose because he said your uh-equipment was small.”

It takes a second, a full second for Sam’s face change from shock to smugness “Well…”

Nate snorts.

“Nathan, my brother, light of life, let’s be honest here.” And Sam leans close, wrapping his free arm around Nate and whispering to his ear “Nobody really expects you to steal anything when you put out.” He claps Nate’s shoulder before stepping away, “Now the reason why it's not more common is debatable. You know _personally_ I think we all should-”

“ _Oh my god_ ” Nate palms his face.

“-It was, of course, a stroke of genius. I honestly do not give myself enough credit-”

“Losing everything but your shoes and your socks was a stroke of genius?”

“Nate I’ve told you. _A thousand baht_. And besiiides," Sam elongates the word, "it was all a part of the plan”

“Uhuh”

“So Aromdee tells me my dick is small. The obvious and most sane course of action is to prove that shmuck is wrong. What better way to do that than to play strip Wicked Grace? All aggro is on me, and paradoxically not on me. Nobody suspects you, because well you're you-"

"Hey!"

"And I steal the key. We all walk away happy. Aromdee get's his cash and thinks none the wiser. While we, brother of mine, go home with the key to our fortunes, money to last for a month and my sense of personal honour restored.”

“Ah.”

Sam does a double take. 

"What? You don't agree?"

"That last part, it's just ah debateable" 

“The last part is a matter of perspective.”

Nate rolls his eyes, unable to keep the smile off his face.

“Speaking of, key?”

“Your jacket. Left pocket”

After rummaging around for it for a few seconds, Nate finds it still warm to the touch.

“Ugh, you’re such a showoff”

“Got the job done didn’t I?”

“Yeah” Nate inspects the key underneath the streetlight, chewing his cheek. “Yeah you did”

The inlaid rubies glitter and reflect the fluorescent colour of the lamps above. They must’ve been recent additions, maybe seventeenth century if the setting and the gallery rails were anything to go by. Someone was trying to hide it for what it was.

“Those embellishments were new at the time,” Sam says as they start to walk again, “and it’s pretty good recreation too”

“The setting gave it away”

“The setting gave it away” Sam agrees.

“Do you think it matches our guy?”

“Well I sure hope so, we don’t have much choice either way”

Nate hums.

“Hey Sam”

“Yeahuh?”

“When did you give it to me? The only time you were near enough was after the game.”

“Yeah uh about that…” and Nate sees the flush on the back of Sam’s neck.

“Sam.”

“Nathan.” Sam says name cautiously. Slowly. He turns to face Nate, stopping once more.

“They took all of your clothes and you didn’t touch your socks once. Sam where did you put the ring?”

“Nate-”

“Because if this is headed where I think it’s heading-”

“Look you don’t want to know-”

“Then you better start running.”

Sam nods a little. Purses his lips a little and puts a hand on his hips.

“I get a head start right?”

“You’ve got five seconds Sam”

“C’mon lil bro-”

“Four.”

Sam curses under his breath and promptly takes off, long legs speeding through the night market.

_Jesus Sam really was going to be the death of him._

Nate follows the shouting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I had to fly. Last minute call for another job. If Nathan, tell Samuel should play Wicked Grace more often. If Sam, naked is a good look on you. Wear it more often._   
>  _\- Owee_
> 
>  - Note found inside a bulky yellow envelope, alongside twenty-thousand baht and placed by Sam and Nate's safehouse.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (good gods did that chapter beat me up and take all of my money. But so concludes the Pre-Panama Arc. I hope you liked it! Some of it I feel feel ick about, I mean it's so dialogue heavy yeno? But most of it I'm happy with and I hope that you are too!  
> Also sorry for the sparseness of updates, between university, meeting up with my old friends, actually reading before going into lectures, life has taken a downturn for writing frequency. So expect chapters to come a little later than usual. But besides that, I still hoped you liked it! And if you didn't, I'd love to get some concrit!  
> Much love my doods <3
> 
> P.S Nate is the one that opens the letter. I'll leave how he reacts up to you ;)


	8. Explosions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this weeks chapter: A couple of things explode.
> 
> A part of a new story arc, set after the first few chapters, and after TLL also.
> 
> Plot is coming.

Sam smells like cigarettes, gunpowder and clean laundry. Which apart from the last thing, was usually the standard.

“You’re looking good” Nate adds as he pulls from the hug, his eyes roving over his new form, noting the little differences here and there in the intervening months.

For starters, Sam’s stubble was almost all but gone, cut down to a neat almost imperceptible shadow. Then it was his hair. It was still the same length, but somehow Sam managed to wrangle it into something that didn’t resemble Doc from Back to the Future. The biggest improvement though, and Nate would have to admit, would be the lack of the Hawaiian shirt. Dressed up in a simple grey henley, denim jacket, and black jeans, he could pass for respectable. 

Which should not be taken lightly. It was a miracle that Sam didn’t get punched in the street more often.

Nate says as much.

“I’m five steps in and you’re already insulting me?” Sam scoffs but his eyes are glittering.

“You know what I mean” then adds, stumbling just a little “You just- you just look good”

Sam gives him a look, “You alright there Nate? You’ve said that twice now”

Nate rolls his eyes. Personality was something Sam still needed to sorely work on. Placing hand on the small of Sam’s back, he ushers him in, closing the door behind them.

“I just thought that I should go easy on you since, you know, Mom always said I was the more handsome one”

“Again with the insults! Honestly, Nate, Is this really anyway to treat your guests?”

“You’re not a guest you're my brother”

Sam pauses in steps, turning to him in the hallway.

“You know it could be both right?”

“Yes- yeah I know it can be both Sam.”

Sam lifts a brow, looking skeptical.

“Cause you just-”

“I know I did-” Nate begins

“And it could have-”

“Sam.”

Sam raises his brow a little higher.

“Nathan.” Sam says lightly, a ghost of smile curling by the corner of his mouth. In a moment or two it’ll be a real one, and in a moment or two Nate will be tempted to shove Sam.

But there’s a moment or two in the between and it’s one of those rare moments where Nate is reminded how obnoxious Sam really was. He can see how people, scores of people, could hate the guts out of a guy like Sam. 

But then, then the fondness sets in, honey sweet, and kind, and Nate is reminded again how infectious Sam’s smile. It’s an effort to stave off the grin that Nate wants to show, blowing through his nose and biting his tongue.

Sam doesn’t buy it for a second. He lets out a wide laugh, the notes, the gruffness of it spill out into the brisk morning air. 

“I’m trying to be welcoming here!”

“ _Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, mi hermano,_ you are failing”

“Well” and Nate shoves him to the dining area, “prepared to be wined and dined within an inch of your life Sam, because I will be the best host you have ever had the luck to have in your entire life.”

-

“You're an idiot.”

“I am an idiot” Sam agrees.

“How could you burn the creme brulee it’s supposed to be burnt?”

“I dunno Nathan!” Sam’s voice goes up several pitches “Aren't I supposed to be wined and dined here?”

“You insisted on helping!”

“And you should've known better than to say yes!”

Nate looks at the blackened mess that was supposed to be the crust. Leave it to Sam to become a pyromaniac in the span of three months and Nathan to not have seen it coming.

“Just- just give me the blowtorch before you singe your eyebrows”

“I mean,” Sam gives it to him with a lazy grin, “even with no eyebrows I’d still look better than you”

Nate lifts a brow, tilting his head, “You still on that?”

Sam is about to reply, mouth open and mid-syllable when Elena’s head pops out from the doorway.

“Hey guys I smelled something burning, what’s-” She blinks at the scene before her. Her eyes alternating between Sam and then Nathan and then finally the creme brulees. “Oh.”

For a moment there’s complete silence, and then suddenly, her laughter bright and wild floods the air.

“You” Elena snorts at Sam “You burnt the creme brulee?”

Sam’s face flushes a deep red, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

“..... uh yeah”

“And you,” She turns to Nathan, grinning, “You thought it was a good idea to give him the torch?”

“I thought he was an adult!”

“Oh boy”

“Elena-”

She lifts a finger up, cutting Nate off “I’m just surprised you guys managed to survive a decade on the road without accidentally causing the third world war” Elena shakes her head and shrugs off the last bit of her laughter with a shoulder roll and a smile,“Now move, shoo”

They part away from the counter, giving Elena space to open the fridge.

“You’ve got uh,” She looks at Sam and points to her nose “ a little something just uh-right there”

If it's even possible Sam flushes a deeper shade of red, scrubbing his nose with the back of his hand. When Sam speaks again, there’s not a trace of the cockiness from earlier.

“Look uh, Elena” I’m really sorry about the creme brulees I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to ruin your dinner”

“Hey don’t sweat it,” Elena says as she closes the fridge door and she opens up the pantry. She takes out the microwaveable popcorn and continues speaking “It was Nate’s idea. He _really_ wanted to impress you. Should have seen him a week ago”

“Oh?”

“Look can we not-” Nate starts

“Ohoh,” Elena mock shudders, “It was ugly Sam.”

“ _Oh?_ ”

“It wasn’t that bad-”

Sam cuts him off this time, “How ugly was ugly?”

“The type of ugly that haunts you before you got to sleep. But no big deal. I mean if spending three hours on getting cream and burnt sugar out of the sofa is no big deal” Elena replies lightly.

Nate sighs. It was hopeless There was no going back now.

“Sofa...fabric?” Sam says, furrowing his brow as if it could help reconcile the two ideas together.

“His first batch of creme brulees exploded” Elena reveals cheerfully just as the microwave dings. She chucks the chocolate chips in the bowl, tossing them a little.

Sam dips his head to Nate, mouthing out _exploded, really?_

“Shut it” Nate hisses.

“Hey I didn’t say anything” Sam lifts his hands up.

“If you two are finished,” Elena moves between them and hands them the bowl, “movie?”

-

“Boooo!” Sam hollers at the screen, throwing a popcorn the hero, “boats don't explode like that!”

It bounces straight from the protagonists face as he scrambles onto the pier, bloodied but still looking perfectly disheveled. Steamy dreamboat of the 90’s winks at the stunned bypassers, lips moving and ready for a smart quip.

“Can you stop getting butter on our very new very nice tv?”

Sam doesn’t even look at him. “Five buckaroos says you can’t hit the guys mouth”

“No way we are not-”

Another popcorn dings off the steamy dreamboat of the 90s, catching him right by the monologue. Nate whips to his left to see Elena bounce up in triumph.

“Woo hoo!”

“Ding ding ding! First place goes to the lovely Elena Fisher!”

Sam high fives her right behind Nate’s head.

“Oh my god”

“Aw poor little Nate’s being a sore loser, do you want a bandage?” Sam blinks up at him pouting, and Elena is quick to reply. She always was.

“I don’t think a bandage will do it, Sam. He's suffering upstuck-itis and I’m afraid it’s terminal”

“I can’t believe I’m getting tag-teamed by my wife and my brother, don’t you guys love me?”

“Eh…”

“Maybe?”

“We’d love you a whole lot more if you manage to get the villain in the eyeball”

“C’mon Nate, you know you want to” Sam nudges him just as Elena offers the bowl.

 _Ah what the hell_ Nate sighs and takes the popcorn offered to him. He aims for the villain's scarred eye, timing it just right so they come to full view. And as he lets loose the popcorn, Nate knows he should feel something, something like frustration, or exasperation that he's throwing popcorn at his one grand television, something like _this was life now_ with a resigned sad tone of voice. But as it lands its target all Nate can think of is the fact that this? Being wedged between two of the people he loved the most, watching the worst sort of movie, and eating chocolate covered butter popcorn, this?

This was _his_ life now.

And this was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Out with Elena for groceries, we'll back before lunch. I demand a rematch._
> 
>  
> 
> \- Written on a yellow sticky note alongside fifty dollars. Left on the kitchen counter.
> 
> Addendum in blue pen, hastily written:
> 
> _We should really let him win this time. He's sulking. He doing the thing, you know, where he pouts but he says that he's not pouting, even though he's doing it anyway. It's adorable_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Further notice: I've edited some of the dialogue on last week's chapter because I wasn't happy with it, so check that out!  
> Secondly this will be the beginning of an actual plotted arc, which would still follow the general ficlet format just that it'll be a little tighter. So watch out my doods! An actual story is on the way!
> 
> And thirdly, because of the above point, the next few fics will take place in relatively the same place, and time span.
> 
> also ps the reason why it's fifty and not just five bucks, is because Nate got cocky and don gone and goofed up. What a dork.


	9. To Older Nights and Newer Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On this months chapter: Self loathing (by both the author and the brothers ahaH)
> 
> My biggest thanks to Nell, whom of which without you this chapter would not be possible <3 you are truly a beacon of light and support, I love you.
> 
> A part of the mini-arc I have yet to name, set in the same sort of time span as the last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I'm still alive! University has literally kicking my ass! That means that the updates will be much much longer in between but on the plus side this is a long af chapter so I hope you all enjoy!

It’s three am and Nate’s night vision isn’t as good as it used to be. Dodging bullets and grenades with only a lighter and sheer dumb luck? Not an issue. Avoiding a stubbed toe in your very own home that you’ve lived for five years? Now that, that apparently was a whole different ball game.

He kneads the pinkie toe, and glares at the offending object. The sofa looks innocently back, acting very, well... sofa-like. 

_Ten out of ten for that description Nate, real poetic,_ Nate shakes his head of the thoughts, and slowly sets his foot down. No point in staying around longer than he needed to be, Nate fights off the shiver and tugs his jumper down to his hands.

They really needed to fix their boiler.

Without wasting another second, Nate half hobbles back to the stairs, climbing the steps at first one at a time and then two. He nearly misses it so lost in his thoughts. 

There.

A glimmer of light.

The tiniest faintest line splitting the corridor into two. It was coming from- Nate pauses in his footsteps. It was coming from Sam’s room.

Well, technically it should be called the guest bedroom, but it might as well be Sam’s. He was the only one who used it.

Nate chews on his lip.

Curiosity tugs him all the way to the door but it’s concern that gets him to knock.

It takes a moment, and then

“Nate?” Sam’s voice comes through before his face does. Nathan blinks at the sudden brightness.

“Uh hi,” Nate blinks a few more times and Sam’s answering smile comes to focus. It’s a quiet sort of smile, just barely there.

“Hey, d’you need something?”

“No, uh, it’s just that your light is on”

“Oh?” Sam glances back at the object, sitting still on the small bedside desk, “I hadn’t noticed”

“You're such a smartass,” Nate says it mostly out of reflex, smirking at him.

“Ouch Nate, you know that _actually_ hurts”

“Oh you’ll live. You've been called worse" 

"Still doesn't mean it doesn't hurt!" 

"Sam?"

"Yes Nathan?" 

"Shut up?" 

"Point noted" 

Nate sucks in a breath unable to keep the grin off his face, “I just uh- I just wanted to know if you’re okay.”

“Yeah I am Nate." Sam says quick, and then mends it, "I mean yes, I am okay. Mostly okay.”

“Mostly?” Nate lifts a brow

“Mostly.” Sam affirms, bobbing his head to a side. Then he grins 

“It’s nothing your pretty little head needs to worry about- I mean- did your hair always do that?” Sam stands back a little to appraise Nate.

Nate can’t help but feel self-conscious under the gaze. He reaches for his hair, but there’s nothing that’s new up there

“Whaddya mean?” 

“Go floof”

“Floof?” Nate repeats, snorting a just little. He regrets it a moment later when his hair is assaulted with Sam's hand, ruffling it even more.

“Yeup, definitely floof”

Nate knocks his hand away with a swat. He wants to fight off the grin, but it doesn’t work, standing a little bit closer now.

“You sure?”

“ _Yes Nate_ ,” Sam rolls his eyes, “now shoo”

Nate shakes his head, grinning. He turns his back only at the last possible second, he trusts Sam enough to be an adult. Whenever he needed help, Nate was always the first to know.

Or least that’s what Nate thought until the next time it happened.

//

“Hey thanks again” Nate clasps a hand over Jameson’s shoulder. “I don’t know where we’d be without you”

“Probably freezing to death,” Jameson snorts, and then shakes his head “Nathan you should have called me sooner”

“That wouldn’t be right-”Nate starts to protest but Jameson cuts him off.

“I’m retired but not senile. Besides I’m expecting that eggnog at Christmas.” He hands the last of the tools to Nate.

“Well you’ve got yourself a deal” Nate chuckles, putting the tools right by the doorway. 

He waves Jameson off as he walks down the stairs and into his pickup truck, right until he turns the corner and Nate can’t see him anymore. Shaking off the cold that’s been creeping down his neck, Nate turns back to the house and carries the toolboxes inside.

“Sam?” Nate calls out, wandering through the corridor. Elena wouldn’t be back for another hour and some help lifting the tools boxes up would be appreciated. Not that Nate was getting old. He could lift these tool boxes all day if wanted to. Okay maybe half a day. But only if Nate really really wanted to. In which case-

Look that wasn’t the point. 

The point was Nate was looking for some help. Namely his brother. His brother who was by the way, may Nate remind you, six foot four. A brother who has now conveniently disappeared. 

“Sam?” Nate calls out again. He couldn’t be that hard to find right-

oh.

Nate found him.

There he was sprawled across the couch in a human approximation of a puddle. His t-shirt rucked up, his feet, bare and If Nate were the type of person to carry a phone handy, then he would snapped the picture in an instant. But as it stood, the best Nate could do was take it all in. 

And take it in Nate does.

He notices how Sam’s hair is a mop of brown, no longer slicked back and combed through. His shirt revealed the small happy trail that lead up to Sam’s belly button, the hint of a scar just by the edges. And its barely there, just a hint of a noise but yeup Sam was snoring. 

He must’ve gone out like a light.

Sam wasn't a snorer by any means, only did it if he was knocked out cold. And nobody in their right minds would sleep in this cold of a room. Hell, Nate is getting cold just by looking at him.

It’s instinctive.

The way Nate’s first thought is to the spare fleece blanket upstairs. He settles the tools down by his feet, and slips out of the room without a noise. It doesn’t take long for Nate to find it and suddenly he’s back in front of Sam, with a handful of blanket instead of tools.

“God, Sam you’re so old” Nate whispers under his breath, grinning. He shakes it out of the folds and gently as he can, drapes it over Sam. His feet, chest, shoulders.

Nate pauses at the shoulders.

Because there it was. The evidence.

Nate can see how deep Sam’s eye-bags, sunken and dark.

And sure Nate knew that Sam must’ve been tired, but this? This was taking it to a whole new level. Worry begins to gnaw at Nate’s stomach. He lets his hands drop with the blanket, resting one on his shoulder and the other on the sofa.

“ _Jesus Sam_ ” Nate can’t help but say.

When he wakes, Nate promises to talk to him about it. But for now, the best thing Nate could do was to let him sleep.

//

Things get in the way, life tends to. Between Nate’s new job and trying to fix leaking pipes, the last thing on Nate’s mind has been Sam’s sleeping problem. It’s not intentional, and it’s not because Nate doesn’t notice.

Because he notices.

But it’s because Sam smiles at him every time they talk, suddenly he’s an explosion of movement, stories of Hoysala and Atlantis and Yggdrasil spilling from his lips. Because Sam wants to talk about everything but _it_

And because maybe just maybe Nate wants an excuse to stay close to Sam. To take care him instead of vice versa. To kneel by his side, and pretend that this was how it’s supposed to be.

The thoughts tangle up into such a fine mess, that Nate prefers to shove it away like yesterday's laundry, than to acknowledge it.

Sam was always good at hiding. Nate was always good at pretending. It’s not a wonder how, they’ve got years of experience.

//

He’s just come back from the airport after dropping Elena off. Business trip she explained, hopefully this time there won’t be any pirates and long lost brothers on the radar. Nate had to admit. He deserved that one.

It’s some ungodly hour when Nate finally gets to right street. As soon as he’s in, he’s stripping, peeling off his jacket and shivering in the cold.

The sweet sweet release of sleep was waiting for him upstairs and he wasn’t going to let something as simple as a jacket stand in his way. He reaches the landing in a blink and he’s about to reach out for his door when he realises. 

He takes a couple of steps back.

There it was again, the little line of light.

Nate stares at it. He chews the inside of his cheek, checking his watch. Its 3:41 am.

“Nate?” Sam blinks at him. 

Nate hadn't even realised that he had knocked. His hand is outstretched dumbly in the air.

“Hey” He puts it back down.

“Hey” Sam gives a quiet smile back.

“You’re awake”

“Yeah”

They stare at each other for a long moment. Sam starts just Nate does

“Aren’t you-?”

“Why are you-?

They both laugh at the same time, blinking at each other in the half light. It should feel strange, the silence stretches before them, heavy and thick. And there should be a part of it that should feel uncomfortable with the things that they’ve said and the stuff that they haven’t.

But it doesn’t.

Not even a little bit.

“You’re not sleeping well.” Nate says it first and he says it quietly because if it doesn’t say it now, it’s never going to be said. 

Sam’s eyes flick to the ground before looking back to Nate.

“Yeah”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Nate-”

“If you’re awake at this time of the night-”

“Does it matter if I am?”

They stay silent just for a moment, then Nate scoffs.

“Does it matter? _Does it matter?_ Sam if you're half awake in the morning and I do nothing about it then that’s on me. So yeah. It matters”

Sam shakes his head, looking away.

“C’mon after everything we’ve been through-”

“That’s exactly the point Nathan!” After a moment, Sam’s face crumples up, regret twisting his features. He sighs “ I don’t want to drag you into this-”

“I’m pretty certain you’ve dragged me to worse places, Sam”

“ _This,_ Nate this is different. You gotta believe me on this okay? Please”

It strikes Nate that this is probably the first honest words that Sam’s said in this whole conversation. And he knows that Sam is being honest because for once, he’s got his heart on his face, lips slightly parted, brows slightly furrowed. All of it screaming one thing.

I’m vulnerable, so please, _please_ believe me.

It stops Nate right in his tracks.

Because all he wants to do in that moment is kiss Sam.

Plain and simple.

The thought is like a slap to the face.

He looks away first, taking a shaky breath in. He rolls his shoulders and shrugs off the emotion. Nate’s always been good at hiding this. It’s no different now. 

“Okay” Nate gives a small nod.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Just-” Nate looks back up again, he presses himself against the door. “Just one thing”

“What?”

And Nate threads himself through the gap between Sam’s arm in the door. In a blink he’s in Sam’s room.

“Just give me a reason.” Nate says simply.

Sam snorts and rolls his eyes, “Great, make yourself at home why don’t you?”

“That was the plan” and Nate grins.

He knows how he might look right now and he’s not gonna lie, he feels kind of stupid standing in the room all by himself. But goddamn it if Nate lets this slide. He wants to say he knows Sam, knows that if leaves the room that maybe Sam will speak to him about it later. But the truth is, Nate doesn’t. He doesn’t know. 

The only thing he knows for certain is that if he leaves the room, they might never speak about this again. And that? That’s a chance that Nate isn’t willing to take.

So it turns into a waiting game. 

Sam by the door and Nate in the middle of the room. It feels more dramatic than it has any right to be, but Nate is not planning on giving up soon.

He stares.

Watches at how Sam’s body tenses up into one tight knot. Watches how Sam’s bottom lip disappears and how he shakes his head. They look at each other for a long moment. Waiting and waiting and waiting and then…. Sam sighs. 

He ducks his head and Nate knows he’s won.

“It’s stupid,” Sam concedes.

“Stupid enough to keep you awake? C'mon Sam, you're not giving me enough credit.” Nate walks back towards the bed. “I’d like to think I’ve become immune after all these years.”

“Hahah, very funny”

“I really should have been a comedian”

“No one would see your shows” Sam says as he closes the door.

“No?” Nate flumps back onto the mattress, bouncing just a little.

“You’d be much better at being a magician”

“Aww Sam, you actually do care”

“Yeah yeah you can shut it.” Sam flumps back onto the mattress beside him, sending Nate a little up, shoulders touching. For a moment they lay like that, basking in the silence, staring at the same ceiling.

“Is it the bed?” Nate guesses, “‘cause we can always get a new-”

“No- no Nate, I don’t mean it like that. It’s uh. The bed is fine” Sam scratches his right eyebrow “It’s a little bit more complicated than that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah” Sam takes a deep breath, then after a beat, he continues.

“I wasn’t lying, you know, when we were at the Rossi Estate. I wake up thinking I’m still in the cell. But that isn’t the worse part, Nate. It’s this,”

And he gestures around him.

“The ceiling? Sorry Sam I can’t buy a new-”

“Look who's the smartass now” Sam shoves him, and Nate can’t help but laugh. After a beat it gets Sam laughing too, the sound of it something that Nate easily admits to missing. When the laughter dies down, it dies down to a comfortable near silence. Cars are moving by their house, even in this time of night. Or maybe it was morning. Nate didn’t know anymore. 

Sam continues, chewing on his lip.

“It’s like I wake up and the thing I’m waking up to is a dream. Because this? This Nate? This just seems too good to be true. And I’m not sure if I wanna go back to sleep and wake up to something that wasn’t”

“Okay,” Nate says slowly, absorbing the words “I think I get what you’re getting at. But just in case, can I have it again? This time in English?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “I told you it was complicated” 

“And I’m telling you right now I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay. I just want to make sure I get it right the first time.”

“It’s stupid Nate.”

“As you’ve said. But that’s for me to decide.” Nate pauses and when he continues it’s softer this time, “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it Sam” 

Sam sighs and searches for something in Nate’s eyes. He must’ve found it because a second later he’s looking back up at the ceiling.

“You’re gonna laugh Nate” Sam shakes head, “but I’m sorta... kind of…. Worried? That this isn’t real.” Sam clarifies ”And I don’t exactly want to wake up realising that all of this was fake so… do you know what I mean?”

Funny thing is, yeah. 

Nate gets it. 

He really really does. 

Sam can probably see it, with the way Nate is looking at him now, how he can’t help but clench his hands into fists, nodding just a little. It’s sobering. For a couple of seconds it’s just like that. Both of them weighing in on the silence, as if this was a council instead of them just laying bed together.

“So you’ve been staying awake.” Nate finishes it for him. He turns to his side fully to face Sam. 

Sam nods.

“Want me to pinch you?”

“What? No.”

“It might make it real for you” Nate says lightly.

“Nathan. Don’t.”

Nate sneaks in a pinch anyways and before you know it, it’s turned into a wrestling match. Sam yelps as he gets a second pinch before turning to Nate and pinching back. Nate dodges the first assault but the second Nate isn’t so lucky. They’re hopelessly breathless by the time it ends, sprawled across the bed and grinning.

Sam sneaks a hand across the distance between them, and although Nate can see it, he accepts the pinch with little complaint. He rubs the spot, shaking his head before looking at Sam.

“So talk” Nate says huffs simply, smiling a small smile and lying back on his back.

“Talk?”

“Yeah talk I mean that’s what you do ninety percent of the time.”

“I know what talk means Nate-”

“Do it then” Nate cuts him off, he grins, sticking his tongue.

“Nate _why?_ ”

“You said you can’t sleep so... don’t”

Sam rolls his eyes at Nate.

“Talk?”

Nate nods again.

Sam snorts, looking at Nathan like he can’t believe him but. But. The expression slowly morphs into one of fondness. He shakes his head, a small answering smile forming.

“Okay” Sam says finally, “okay”

//

The world in the morning is blue and deep and quiet. Nate blinks awake to the light of the lamp, awareness filtering in through the haze of his mind. He yawns. He must've forgotten to turn it off. He reaches for it-

Then he realises

Sam.

Nate blinks down. Blinks at the image they make. At some point in the night he must’ve thrown himself over Sam or Sam over him. Because now, now they’ve become a mess of limbs, a leg hooked over another, an arm twisted around. Intertwining like a knot.

He follows where his eyes leads him, his gaze travelling up to his own arm. It’s sprawled across Sam’s wide chest, and ends with his hand, resting somewhere above Sam’s heart. He feels it. The heat pressed up against his palm. He feels it even with the shirt on.

Nate swallows.

His stomach twists and flops. He’s been good. So good these past few months. But it’s morning and his head is barely together, let alone his defenses. It practically doesn’t exist. There’s nothing here for Nate to latch on, nothing to hide. There’s a simplicity in it.

Accepting the fact that he’s in love with Sam.

That he loves him so much that his chest almost aches to even think about it. Loves him so badly that he would do anything to press even closer, to be even closer than hand, cloth and skin. He feels a dizzying rush of blood pound through his head, looking in the half light, at someone he shouldn’t be looking at in this way.

It should feel wrong.

It does.

But only in the way that it makes Nate want to tear away his eyes, to turn off the lamp and never look at Sam again. 

It feels like-

Nate shakes his head.

In a moment he’ll get up, and make pancakes for breakfast. In a moment he’ll be good.

In a moment he’ll pretend again and it’ll be fine. But in a moment.

Because in this moment Nate is weak. In this moment, Nate is looking and looking and looking.

He looks at how Sam’s mouth is slightly open, looking at newer wrinkles and feeling the way his chest rises and lowers with every breath with his palm.

Maybe it’s been hours, or maybe it’s been minutes. Maybe it’s just a moment.

The sunlight begins to pour in.

Shafts of light illuminate Sam’s mop of hair, lights up his cheekbones and darkens the hollows of his cheek. There’s stubble now, feathering the skin of his chin and Nate wants to touch.

He doesn’t move to take it.

Instead he shoves that feeling down, deep deep inside of him, where it can never see the light of day except for moments like this. He feels shaky, rattled in a way that he hasn’t been for years.

He closes his eyes and tries to breath. When Sam inhales, Nathan inhales with him, following the noise until that’s all there is. In and out. In and out, in and out. 

The monotony twists and muddles his thoughts. Maybe they are just one person, maybe there is no Sam. No Nate.

Just them.

Intertwined, melding together. 

Nate would say I love you and Sam would say the same. But in the only way he knew with Nate, holding it in just a look. Nate breathes out and Sam breathes out with him.

Slowly piece by piece, Nate can feel the mask resettle over him. It’s familiar and comforting, and Nate breathes easier for it. He blinks up at Sam and forces himself to feel okay.

That they’re okay.

Nate reaches out for the lamp, not missing the heat, not missing anything. Below him Sam groans. Nate clicks off the lamp.

“Nate?”

“That's my name”

“Hey,”

Nate looks down at him, huffing.

“Hi.”

Sam looks up at him, morning light illuminating the hazel notes in his eyes. He carefully notes that Sam hasn’t decided to move, not even finger, not even a muscle. He swallows down the feeling.

Nate grins, “Do you need me to pinch you again?”

“Nah I think your elbow on my stomach is just fine” Sam wheezes.

“Shit sorry, sorry” and now it's Nate’s turn to decide to move. He starts to draw away but Sam stiffens around him, aware now of how they’re connected. Nate waits for the moment for both of them to pull away. But Sam just blinks at him then yawns before relaxing.

“I mean asides from that, this is pretty comfy don’t you think?”

“I mean....” Nate tilts his head, drawing out the silence, “if a human shaped pillow with stubble could be called comfy, then yeah”

“Hey I make a great pillow!”

“No” and Nate pats him on the chest as he settles down beside him “No you don’t”

“I don’t see you complaining”

“Thas’ caus’ cold” Nate sniffs.

“Mmhm,” Sam snorts, “whatever helps you sleep at night Nate”

Nate doesn’t respond but grins into Sam’s shirt instead. He hopes that Sam can feel it. Nate draws back a second later.

Under his lashes, he looks over Sam’s features, how the circles aren’t as deep anymore, how his eyes seem brighter.

“You good?” Nate asks suddenly, because it feels important. It takes Sam by surprise, and Nate knows it because he can feel him shift. Just a little.

“Yeah” He looks back down at Nate smiling. “You?”

“Yeah.” Nate nods.

“Yeah I am”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Nate’s always been a human octopus, but it’s still a welcome surprise that he hasn’t changed in the years since. Sam huffs out a chuckle as he feels Nate draw closer, arm thrown across his chest and their legs intertwined. Gently, Sam brushes his fingers across his hair, methodically, slowly, like all those years ago. Like all those bus journeys in Italy, Nate napping in his lap, the afternoon sun beating against the pavement. Like all those times he got sick, and Sam had to take care of him, buckets and antibiotics and soup. Like the first night in the orphanage and Nate cried himself to sleep against Sam’s stomach, the whole of Sam’s heart aching._
> 
> _He’d do anything for Nate._
> 
> _Except tell him this this._
> 
> _“You know what hated the most in the prison, Nate?” Sam sucks in a deep breath, “Not the food. Not the inmates…. But you. Could you believe that, Nate? You weren’t even there” He laughs a little, and hates the way it sounds broken_
> 
> _“But you’d show up, and jesus Nate you’d look so real. I reach out and my hand- my hand would just go straight through you. And then suddenly you weren’t there anymore.”_
> 
> _The tears begin to well up in Sam’s eyes. Fuck._
> 
> _“And If I couldn’t love you, I thought it would be easier to hate you.”_
> 
> _“-It wasn’t.”_
> 
> _“-God Nathan I love you so much”_
> 
> _“I’m sorry.”_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> \---
> 
> so this is an un-beta'd mess and I lowkey kind of hate it but I mostly love it DW. I'm literally so sorry for the lack of updates and it'll probably continue that way for a while, it is no longer summer and for the story I'm about to launch into, it'll probably need bigger chapters. Watch out though, I'm probs gon re-edit this chapter later on, like I did for Wicked Grace, which I think was chapter 6??? I dunno. But yah hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter and con-crit is always always always welcome!
> 
> ciao cari!! xoxo


	10. Honesty Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on this months chapter: Nathan gets into a less than ideal situation
> 
> I would like 2 dedicate this chapter to the wonderful Nell whose loving support make a bitch wanna cry, look you're too good to me okay??? *begins to sob*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRYSLER AND HAP NEW NYEER, look this chapter beated me up, stole my lunch money and took my last remaining yogurt tubes okay? I've been traumatised and more on that later. That said I hope you all enjoy!

Nate likes to think he’s a happy drunk. He’s been told he’s a happy drunk. But, and this is a big but. _Ahaha, big butt. Butt! Hah,_ he hasn’t been this intoxicated since he was what twenty. Which is fine. Totally great. The room is spinning, he feels _uh-may-zing,_ amazing, and _look the difference between proto-geometric attican pottery and corinthian bronze age pottery is simple. It’s obviously.... it’s obviously-uh…. Obvious. It was all in the-_

“ _Oh my god, Nate_ ” He hears Sam’s voice through the fuzz, his face a blur, the laughter ringing in his ears. “When did you become such a lightweight?”

“Since I drank the third vodka shot” Nate says or at least he thinks he did. He’s not sure.

“Vodka?” Sam appears in front of him like a desert mirage. The hands on his shoulders are warm and Nate wants nothing more than to lean into it. “I thought that was tequila?” 

“Yeup, uhuh, that too”

“ _Nate_ ” Sam half-laughs, half groans, his face is like a sun. His smile makes Nate feel funny inside. And warm, but not in the drink way warm, but in the warm that’s like the...

“Summer? I’m glad you think of me that way Nate”

_Oh crap. Did Nate just say that out loud?_

Sam begins to laugh even harder, suddenly holding Nate’s face in his hands, “Yes, yes you did”

The room suddenly tilts and Nathan unable to do anything else, moves with it. With the way Sam was looking tonight, five o clock shadow and a cocky grin, Nate can’t think of anything else either. Lights pass over his face, over the planes of his cheeks, the dip in his lips. Nathan looks and looks and looks until realises that he is staring. He flinches almost when he does, flinches at his carelessness. Maybe getting drunk was a bad idea. Maybe it was-

He stares at the empty space beyond Sam. Was he seeing something that wasn't there? Giddiness begins to build in Nate's chest, the _urge_ creeping under his skin, insidious and subtle. Nothing is playing but that urge was there.

That’s when Nate knows he’s really, really drunk. 

“Iwannadance” Nate blurts out.

“Hmm? Whatcha say Nate?” Sam’s words sound slurred, rounding out the syllables “I didn’t catch that”

Nate claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide before bursting out into giggles.

“Uh Sam,” He snorts through his fanned fingers “Sam I think I drank too much”

“Uhuh! You don’t say” Sam is back to holding his shoulders and chuckling. His eyes shine under these lights “D’you wanna go home little bro?”

Nate shakes his head and _whoops he shouldn’t have done that_. The room bounds and trips over itself, furniture blurring before straight lines and gravity reassert themselves.

“No” Nate perseveres through it anyway, looking straight at Sam’s eyes and taking a deep lungful of air, “I want to dance.”

For a moment there is stillness. And then. _Then_

Sam bursts out, "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

His arms flail, his whole body positively vibrating. The smile on his lips is wild and bright, and his hands are hot on Nate's shoulders, "What the hell are you waiting for Nathan? Go!"

The intoxicating mix of alcohol and giddiness has Nathan grinning, feeling like nothing will ever be more important than this. There was just one little thing. This one itsy bitsy thing. 

Nate clutches Sam’s hand.

He shoots him a look. 

“Uh uh. No. We are not doing that” Sam’s face twists suddenly turning from amusement to apprehension as Nate tugs him out of his seat.

“We’re doing it.”

“Nathan no.”

“I’ll look like an idiot out there!” and look Nathan doesn’t whine. That’s not what he’s doing. What he’s doing is he’s making a reasonable observation that Sam is the only thing keeping him vertical right now, and to dance one needs to be vertical. See? Simple maths. Unless you’re doing the worm, _oh my god Nate is so so so doing the worm._

“That’ll just make us look like two idiots!” Sam’s voice filters through the haze ”You know I can’t-”

“Just one song!” Nate pulls him down onto the dancefloor, nearly slipping on the stairs “One song c’mon Sam, _uno canta, un canzone_ ”

“ _No no no_ Nate. No singing and no dancing. I’d like to not get a concussion tonight”

“Then what about me? You’re- you’re going to leave me all alone to get a concussion”

“Nathan I’d leave you for less”

Nate gasps and tries to punch Sam in the arm, but it goes wide and lands somewhere on his pecs. It’s not even a punch by the time it reaches Sam more of a- Nate looks at how his fist sloppily trails down against Sam’s chest and then swings dumbly back to his side. _It was like a-_

“Oh my god Nate, shut up” Sam’s ensuing laugh pulls Nate back into looking into Sam’s face. He feels the inexplicable urge to giggle too.

It breaks out wild and inescapable, the joy spilling into the air, drunken and heady. His whole body shakes so hard that he has to lean on Sam for support, the tears coming to his eyes.

“I need to shut up” Nate slurs, breathless and happy.

“Mhm”

“You knoow,” And Nate pulls back, drawing out the vowel and stretching it around his lips, “you can shut me up by dancing with me”

Sam tries not to smile. 

He fails.

“One song?” Sam asks.

“One song"

//

Seven songs and a whole crowd later, Nate is holding onto Sam for dear life. His hands are twisted into the fabric of Sam’s shirt and his forehead is pressed against his collarbone. Nathan hopes to the universe that Sam’s grip around his back doesn’t fail. Cause if it does, Nate is gonna go down. He’s going down faster than the time he ate a four day old burrito.

“Please know that I hate you” Sam slurs as Nate nuzzles further into the crook of his neck.

“Yoummflhbleh”

“Nate I can’t hear you if you’re talking to my neck.” Sam’s voice laughs right into his ear, curling around in Nate’s mind. It sounds nice. Nate wants to hear more of it.

“You.” Nate punctuates every word with knocking his head against Sam’s shoulder, “Love. Me.” 

He sighs when the words come out right. _Since when was talking such a chore?_

His palms pick up the vibrations coming from Sam’s chest and it takes a moment for his brain to catch up, another to realise what exactly was happening. Sam was silently laughing. Nate could feel the shaking as Sam inched closer.

“I guess I do” He says finally after all the chuckling has died down, “I guess I do”

The words are barely there like a puff of smoke, low and quiet and sincere. It makes Nate inexplicably warm. But in the nicest of ways. He'd have been embarrassed if he wasn't drunk, and it would have probably made him blush too. But as it stood, Nathan just felt... good.

Nate sighs, his limbs molten and honey. pressing right into the curve of Sam’s body. Sam felt good, Nate distantly notes. He was good. It felt good just to be close to him. Felt needed after everything.

Nathan exhales, feeling his breath circle back to him, Sam's neck blocking it from going any further. This close and he could kiss Sam's neck without Sam even noticing. His lips brush against it enough that one deliberate press would be indistinguishable to rest. And Nate was a Grade A thief, like… _the best thief_ … _if being a thief had an award Nate would have gotten one at thirteen, look Nate was good at stealing okay? And stealing a kiss? That would be nothing-_

Sam chuckles softly, “Jesus I can hear you thinking”

“Hmm?” Nate withdraws slightly to blink stupidly up at Sam. It takes a moment for the words to catch, bouncing around a couple of times. “Me? Thiefing? _Noooo_ ”

“Christ on a stick you really are drunk.” Sam laughs even harder.

“Mmhmm” Nate hums, closing his eyes again before resettling himself. In some distant part of Nate’s mind, the bells are going off.

He really shouldn’t be this close to Sam. He shouldn’t be saying the things that he’s saying. He should have shoved Sam off, mock-offended at the comment, but more ashamed that he held onto him as long as he did.

But the bells are swallowed up by noise of everything else. The heat of Sam’s body, the way he smells of cotton and nicotine and cologne, his humming, the whisper of a melody dancing by Nate’s ear.

Something aches in Nathan’s chest.

“Don’t leave” Nate whispers against Sam’s skin like a secret.

Sam snorts, smiling as he replies “For the last time Nathan I’m not going to leave you out on the dancefloor.”

Nathan inches closer, lips pressed finally, finally into Sam’s skin. His mouth opens up to speak words, and Nathan pretends that it’s something else. That he’s someone else.

“’s not what I meant.”

A pause.

“I know.”

//

Nathan blinks up blearily at the numbers. Five six seven, five six eight, five six nine, all crisply laid out in shining brass. They move past Nathan sluggishly, staying for a moment before dancing away. Line number line, line number line. Pattern after pattern.

"Oh" Nate says.

He realises that they're in a corridor.

"Sam we're in a corridor"

Sam laughs.

He's right by Nathan's side. Nathan blinks at him too... at them. It takes a couple of seconds for the image to make sense, for the sensations to make sense. Nathan's arm is wrapped around Sam's shoulders, and Sam's right arm is hugging Nathan's torso. That would explain the heat, Nathan realises. Then there was Sam's expression. That needed a little more deciphering. Halfway between exasperated and amused and incredulous.

"Stop it" Nate shoves a hand into Sam's face, poking at the place between Sam's brow. "You're face, ‘s going to fall off if you keep squinting"

Sam laughs into Nathan's hand, swatting it away with a flick of his head.

"Sam. Sam."

"Yes Nathan?"

"Sam, we're in corridor"

Nathan can feel his laughter, "And?"

"And why are we in a corridor?"

“Because Nathan," and this time Sam does laugh, "Quote “Elena is going to kill me if I vomit on the new carpet” unquote.”

_Huh._

_That sounds about right._

Nathan pulls at his recollection, tugging for his memories and sighing when he finds them. The cab-ride here felt like a dream away, wispy and already moving to the edges of his conscious. Before that, there was being thrown out of the bar- _that was Sam’s fault of course_ \- and then they had stumbled to the taxi rank. He remembers blurting that as soon as they got into the cab, and with no other option, Sam had chosen the hotel he was going to stay in the week next. It put him closer to the airport, so here they were.

Here they were.

The words come spilling out of his mouth as soon as he thinks them.

“‘S been years since you’ve carried me”

“Yeah well, you’ve gotten much much heavier Nate” Sam hefts him up, and grunts when Nathan re-attaches himself to Sam’s side.

“S' muscle”

Abrupt laughter bursts into the air and they tilt dangerously to a wall.

"Woah! Close call" Sam exclaims, panting slightly. He looks back to Nate, “Well Nathan you think you could use your muscles to- I don't know? Walk?"

"Can I _walk? Pfft._ I can walk" He swats Sam's arms away from him.

Nathan was explorer extraordinaire, king of defeating impossible odds and he could most definitely-

"Umpfh!"

Nathan finds himself squarely on the ground.

"That was uh- that was a really really great try Nathan. A plus for effort" Nathan can hear the smile before he sees it. He rolls to face Sam and lo and behold, there it was. If Nathan was less drunk he’d have wanted the ground to swallow him up at this point. He brushes his palms against the carpet instead, admiring its softness.

“Leave me here"

“Leave you?” Bewilderment crosses Sam’s face “wha- Nathan. No.”

Nathan nods. “Jus- I just need a blanket”

"I'm not going to just" and Sam looks down the corridor, “just leave you here alright? Now get up"

“‘s fine” Nate sniffs, “I’m- ‘m comfy here anyways. Carpet s’nice”

“Nathan get up”

“No.”

When Sam doesn’t respond immediately, Nathan looks up. It looks like he’s trying to fight exasperation, schooling his expression into something a little more neutral and little less choked. He crouches beside Nathan

“I’m going to regret this, amn't I?” Sam mutters under his breath.

“Regret what-”

The world shoots dizzyingly upwards as Nate is lifted, bridal style into Sam’s arms.

“Sam!” Nathan nearly screams. He doesn’t though, because Nathan Drake doesn’t scream, _nuh uh no way_. He lets out a very low pitched shout.

Look that didn’t matter, what mattered was trying to get out of Sam’s hold.

“Would you- would you stop moving?”

Instinct has Nate whacking Sam’s face with his arm, panicky with how much the world was spinning.

“Nate, Nathan. Nate!”

Nathan freezes, half-way through a punch motion. Belatedly, Nate recognises the red-hand shaped mark on Sam’s face as his own.

“Hey Nathan” Sam says breathlessly,”you wanna tell me how possums have opposable thumbs?”

_Oh my god opposable thumbs. That’s right, that’s totally right. It’s unfair that raccoons didn’t have opposable thumbs because they look like they would. Because they’re sneaky. Really really-_

“Umpfh!” Nate exhales, landing on something very soft.

He blinks.

Oh they’re here. Nathan looks around the room taking in the cream coloured walls, the tastefully done decor, and the thick brown curtains. It was fancy but in a way that was understated. It's nice, Nathan thinks. The bed felt nice too, welling up all around his limbs. Felt even better now that Nate realises just how tired he is. The weariness sinking into his bones and the tide of sleep weighing him down. The mattress dips beside Nathan.

“I’m going to take the sofa, just holler if you need me” Sam says quietly, shifting Nate so he lays on his side. Nate’s eyes snap open.

“What? No! I’m taking your bed Sam-” Nate tries to sit up but Sam pushes him down, dizzying as the edges of Nate’s vision blur.

“You need it more than I do Nathan”

"If it's because of pity ‘cause I fell down-"

“It’s not,” Sam says insistent, “I’m supposed to be taking care of you remember?”

Sam's eyes are focused solely on him, unflinching in its earnesty. His hand, Nate notes, is still by his chest.

“Then take care of me here or something” Nate knows half of the words coming out right now are nonsensical, but it’s hard to think. And it’s easier not to want to think. He falls back onto the bed, watching as how Sam shakes his head, and draws his hand away. Instinct has Nathan grabbing Sam's hand.

“Nathan”

“Then sleep beside me, it’s not like- s’not like we hadn’t done it before”

“Nathan you snore.”

“I’ll be quiet”

“You stink”

“No you”

“Nathan”

“Stay. Please.”

Sam huffs.

"C'mon Sam, you can be the big spoon this time"

He hears Sam snort, before he breaks away from Nathan. That must have been the final straw. Nathan sighs hating the empty gap resting where Sam should be.

“You’re here and I miss you already” Nathan says softly, not even sure if he's said it or not.

Nathan feels a tug on his foot, and he opens his eyes- _when did he close them?_ \- to find Sam taking off his shoes. There's an expression on Sam's face that he doesn't recognise. Was it pity? Worry? It's gone in a blink, replaced by a short smile when Sam sees that Nathan is looking at him.

"Patience Nathan" Sam says as places them onto the floor before toeing off his own.” Good things come to those who wait”

He throws his jacket to one of the seats in the room and makes his way over to Nathan. The mattress bends and suddenly both of them are there, Sam looking at the ceiling, and Nathan looking at him. Nathan's heart begins to beat a little faster. 

"You know you're too good for your own good" Sam whispers.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing" He turns his head, and his eyebrows furrow just slightly. He reaches out to pick something from Nathan's hair before flicking it away.

"All clear?" Nathan asks, enjoying the extra heat that Sam was bringing.

"All clear" Sam says softly.

They sink into the comfortable silence, Nathan following the rhythm of Sam's breathing. 

“Hey Nate”

“Yeah” Nate doesn’t open his eyes. Everything felt too good to move, the feeling weighing down on his skin.

“I never told you this. But I-ah… I’m real proud of you.”

What?

“I’m you know-” and Nate feels it more than sees it “I’m proud of you”

Nate flicks his eyes open to look back up at Sam.

He doesn’t fidget, but it looks like he wants to. Nate knows the look. He’s seen it before when Sam is low on his hit of nicotine but has to stay quiet about it. Nate sucks a deep breath in sharp, and painful.

He sluggishly pulls through his memories, crumpled up and soaked in alcohol and tiredness, struggling to straighten and make sense of all of it. He can hear how it all sounds, and in some distant part of his mind he knows that he’s breathing too quick. Too hard. But he can’t help it.

_I’m proud of you._

“You shouldn’t be.”

Nathan tries to move away from Sam, feeling more sober than he has any right to be. The words struggle to come, and he feels the cool air where Sam drifts away from him, but he has to he has to-

“Nate?”

He stumbles out of the bed, not looking, not feeling “God you really _really_ shouldn’t” 

“Nathan what-”

“You shouldn’t proud of me” Nathan cuts him off.

Because-

Because it feels like he’s going to shake apart at any given moment, everything coming at him all at once. Like he’s in the eye of the storm, the lights in the room are spinning and it feels like his heart is about to beat right out of his chest. It feels like Sam is the only person that’s keeping him level and because Nathan- because he-

" _I messed up Sam I messed up_ " Nathan spits out, "I messed up and I-"

“Nathan slow down. What do you mean?" 

He feels like he's drowning, but he needs to say it. 

“I messed up cause I love Elena. And she's out there and _she’s_ counting on me, and _she_ loves me and here I am, thinking that I don’t. And I love her Sam but I- but not in the way that I should.” the words spewing forth, “Not in the way that matters...” 

He feels hollow after saying it, blood rushing towards his head. 

“How could you be proud of me when I’m just- _god_ \- when I’m such an asshole?” He blinks up at Sam. Sam who was standing now, hair disheveled, expression at a loss and looking the clearest he's been in Nathan's vision all night. His eyes are wide, deer in the headlights. He looks like he's got nowhere to go. Nate realises that he hasn't. How the hell were you supposed to respond to what Nathan's just said? Loathing fills Nathan up, _god he was always screwing things up, always so-_

"Nathan!" And Sam's hands are on his face again. Thumbs are stroking his cheeks and it's then that Nathan realises that he's been crying. "Nathan you're not- Nathan you didn’t mess up. You just- we all go through rough patches, all right? " 

"I don’t-" Nathan gasps, feeling worse, “it’s not a rough patch Sam, it’s just- I don’t feel the same way anymore” 

The tears come hot and fast. He was always making these mistakes and wasn't Nathan supposed to be a happy drunk? He should have never opened his mouth. Sam makes shushing noises, wrapping his arms around Nathan, a parody of what they did an hour ago. 

“That’s okay too Nate. You can’t-” He strokes Nathans back in soothing circles, “Look you can’t make yourself feel something you don’t.” 

__

And something in Nathan breaks. The tears stream and he gasps in the ugly desperate sort of way, in a way that he hasn’t for a while. He doesn’t know whether he’s been crying long but after the worst of it dies down, Sam is still there. Still holding him steady. 

__

He was the only thing that was keeping Nate from completely falling apart. And he was right too. Nate couldn’t make himself feel something, but why was it that- 

__

Why was it Sam have to be the one that always did? 

__

His thoughts tangle into each, desperate to be heard. _This close and Nathan could kiss Sam’s neck- Sam wasn’t going to leave Nate alone, not again- he was going to regret it- he was proud of Nate-_

__

“Nathan no.” His voice is whisper soft, almost silent. Nathan opens his eyes, and sucks in a sharp breath. They were close, almost impossibly so, just a hair touch away. Close enough that Nathan could feel the hot air between them. A closeness that was different to all the times before. This was- Nate looks down to their lips. 

__

Just a push and they would meet. 

__

This was something else. 

His heart beats loudly in his ears. 

__

“Nathan.” Sam says again, gentle and low. 

__

Nathan sways forward trying to meet the gap but Sam sways back, dancing in their own rhythm, moving without music. 

__

“Nathan?” 

__

“What?” 

__

“You’re upset” 

__

“So?” 

__

Sam sighs and Nate doesn’t want to look at him in the eyes. He just wants this. 

__

“You’re upset and you think you don’t love your wife when you obviously do,” Sam sounds pained when he says it, “and you’re going to wake up tomorrow and you’re going to go back to your wife and you’re going to go back to normal, and you wanna know why?” 

__

“Why?” 

__

Then Sam smiles a short smile, smiling like he’s done a million times before, with the fondness and familiarity of person who knows this path in conversation so clearly that he could navigate it with his eyes closed. 

__

“Because Nathan,” and he strokes the front of Nathan’s hair, tender in his gesture, “you’re going to forget all of this. You’re going to forget, and I’ll have to remember this, so don’t. Don’t do this to me okay?” 

__

It's silent for the longest time, silent for as long as they sway. When Sam, finally, _finally_ unlatches his hands from Nathan, Nathan lets him. Lets the cool air fill up the space where Sam was, let’s Sam move and shift away from him, lets Sam’s words change his mind. He stares at the image of Sam’s back as he slowly walks away. 

Nathan finds that he doesn't like it. He grabs Sam’s arm and whips him around. 

__

"Then don't let me forget" 

__

Nathan kisses him. 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, are you guys coming back? - seen at 2:08
> 
> Yeah, Nates a little worried that hes going to get sick all over your new carpet, so were staying at a hotel for now. In the cab now - sent at 2:08
> 
> HAHAHAHAH - seen at 2:08
> 
> I'm glad to hear it, keep him safe out there? - seen at 2:09
> 
> Hey no guarantees, Nathan seems to have a mind of his own, he keeps telling me that time he escaped a holding cell using a candle and spoon -sent at 2:09
> 
> Sam is typing.....
> 
> Sam is typing.....
> 
> But I will, course I will - sent 2:10
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> told you plot was coming. Also is the pacing ok?? is Nathan's voice ok??? I've never written anything so long before??? I'm literally not kidding when I said this chapter beat me up and stole all my lunch money. I have like seven deleted scenes, several word documents just covering this chapter and have restarted three times. And that's not even beginning to say the word count which was like five thousand bordering onto six. Absolutely w h i l d stuff, but hopefully you guys like it! I hope you do! Concrit is always welcome!
> 
> also ps this was edited at 1 am in the morning and un-betaed, so if theres any mistakes omfg pls tell me

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what you think. Was it good was it bad? Why and why not?  
> And as always, thanks for reading <3


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